


St. James Boarding School for Troubled Girls

by RosieIsABaby



Category: Original Work
Genre: ABDL, Chastity, DDLG, Domination, F/M, Humiliation, Trans Female Character, tw: discussions of suicide, tw: transphobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:20:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27515971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosieIsABaby/pseuds/RosieIsABaby
Summary: Elizabeth is sent to a boarding school for troubled girls. Only problem? She didn't do anything wrong. But when a teacher finds a video proving otherwise, she has no choice but to submit to him.(All characters are 18+)
Kudos: 12





	St. James Boarding School for Troubled Girls

**Author's Note:**

> No AB/DL in this chapter. One chance for vanillas to get their kicks.

An amber leaf drifted through the air in the sky above St. James Boarding School for Troubled Girls. The old brick building sat covered with ivy and surrounded by wrought iron fencing as the cool fall air blew past, all the while the halls and classrooms were filled with the daughters of the rich and powerful. If you believe the brochures, St. James is a school meant to set “wayward teens” on a “path to a brighter future.” Every student there knows that that’s bullshit. Its real purpose is to prevent politicians, actors, and CEOs from having to deal with the scandal of their children smoking pot, or having sex, or God knows what. You know, the fun stuff. Elizabeth had been there for nearly two months now, and hated each equally. She didn’t fit it with the rest of the St. James throng. She was never part of the expeditions to sneak out to the brother school, she never partook in smuggled drugs (assuming anyone would offer her any in the first place.) Instead, she always stayed quiet, scrolling through her socials or playing on her Switch and wishing she was anywhere but here.

“Ms. Pietchman!” Elizabeth’s head snapped up from her voxel home in Minecraft, and into the glare of her history teacher, Mr. Adams. He was an intimidating man, 6’2”, and was quite muscular in spite of his waxing age. He cleared his throat and spoke again, “Ms. Pietchman, since you are so clearly paying immaculate attention, would you care to tell me the causes of the 53 Months War?” While his words were dry in their sarcasm, his anger propelled drops of spittle into her face, making her cringe away. “It was, uh…” Elizabeth stammered as she became aware of the all too familiar sound of her classmates stifling their laughter at her misfortune. Mr. Adams, or as he was known behind his back ‘Grey-Haired Greg’, had not taken kindly to Elizabeth’s lackadaisical approach to her studies, and routinely singled her out for it. “It was mostly due to growing tensions in Gerbritain between the upper and lower classes, right?” Mr. Adams straightened up from leaning on Elizabeth’s desk and let out a hearty laugh. “You’re thinking of the 53rd Month War, not the 53 Months War. I wish you good luck on this afternoon’s test, Ms. Pietchman” She glanced around the room as the class’ laughter rose with her teacher’s. Vicious, cutting smiles ringed in blood red lipstick stabbed at her from every corner of the room. She tried to keep her emotions in check, and stay composed, but her eyes stung as tears welled up intensely, making the room go fuzzy. She haphazardly grabbed her books and shoved them into her bag as the first sobs started to pierce her best efforts to stay contained. As she stood up, she headed for the door, through sheer force of will not hearing her teacher say that she was not dismissed. Out of the classroom, she bolted for safety. Mascara tears stained her face and long chestnut hair blew behind her as she ran to her dorm. Safely inside, she locked the door and slumped against it. Why did she have to be here, she asked herself, why did she have to be so stupid…

_It had been a long day at school for Elizabeth. Track tryouts, two tests, and just the general wear and tear of the day had worn her down. As she walked up the front path to her house, the structure loomed over her. Built in the French style - to her father’s specifications of course - the manor was so big she felt as though she could get lost in it, going days without seeing another soul. She pushed open the heavy wooden door and made her way inside. As she trekked up to her room she heard her father’s voice call out to her. “Boy… Come in here.” Fuck. She could have sworn he was supposed to be away on a business trip right now. “Hey Dad…” she muttered awkwardly. “Why are you wearing that… hoodie? Yes, hoodie, why are you wearing that hoodie over your uniform?” “It’s just more comfy Dad.” “More comfy? It’s 95 degrees out there, and you want to tell me that it’s comfortable? Actually, no, forget about that, I paid for you to go to a school with a sharp, handsome uniform, so everyone could see what a handsome young boy my son is.” Elizabeth winced. He didn’t know how much that hurt. “But it seems that your insistence on wearing that damned hoodie isn’t the only way I wasted my money on that… that fucking school!” He reached into his pocket and pulled out an orange bottle. At that moment Elizabeth’s heart dropped. She knew what that bottle was, she knew what was inside, she knew what it meant that her father had found it, and she knew that the label across the top told him exactly what it was. Progesterone._

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_Before she could get a word in edgewise he started talking again, “I came home and found this on your nightstand. So immediately I started freaking out, “Oh, my son’s a junkie, rehab is gonna be a PR nightmare…” And then I look up what this shit does online. And you know what it does? Of course you do, it turns you into a girl!” It was at this point that he cut himself off to take a deep swig from a glass of whiskey next to him. Elizabeth took this moment to get a word in edgewise, “Look, I’m so sorry, I’ll stop it right away-” “Like hell you will! I know how this shit goes. I take these things away from you and next thing you know, BANG!, you’ve painted your walls pink and now neither party likes me. No, I’m gonna show you that you don’t want this,” he said, pointing to a paper bag on the counter. Taped to the front was a pamphlet: “St. James Boarding School for Troubled Girls” it proclaimed. Peering inside the bag nervously, Elizabeth found a plain white blouse, a grey heather pleated skirt, and a light gray cardigan with blue accents. “You’ll spend this next year at this school, you’ll be forced to be a woman. And at the end of that, well, then you’ll see how wrong you were…” He trailed off as he finished his whiskey. “Now get a move on and pack. The car will be here in an hour.”_

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Elizabeth was half asleep, with the lights off, when the knock came at the door. Electing to ignore it, she buried her face deeper into the pillow. Another knock came, accompanied by the words of Mr. Adams. “I know you’re in there El. Look, I just want to talk about what happened today in class.” Thinking on the spot, Elizabeth slung the best retort she had his way, “Fuck off.” “Look. I get it. You’re angry at me, maybe rightly so, but I at least want to have a face to face discussion about it.” Mustering every bit of goodwill she had, Elizabeth dragged herself out of bed and unbolted the door. “What?” She asked indignantly. Mr. Adams pushed in past her and sat himself on the edge of her bed, seemingly making himself at home. “Look… I understand that you don’t much like my class - or me, I’m not sure which. Either way… well, I see something in you, something I don’t see in many other students.” “So that’s why you bully me every day in class?” He let out a sigh and pulled out his phone. “I have something I’d like to show you.” Elizabeth sat next to him uneasily as he unlocked his phone and pulled up a video. “Now, pay close attention to what you’re about to see. It could change your life if you let it.”

As he clicked play, Elizabeth looked at the video with confusion. It seemed to be a video feed of a bathroom stall. A particularly grody one at that. But just before she could ask exactly what the point of this was she watched as a girl with long chestnut hair, pulled back into a ponytail, entered the stall. The girl was wearing a plain white blouse, a grey heather pleated skirt, and a light gray cardigan with blue accents. When the girl turned around Elizabeth realised in horror that it was a video of her. She watched as the video of herself stripped off her shirt and sweater, revealing a dark band tee underneath, then let her skirt drop to the floor, her bulge clearly visible through tight, hot pink panties. The video Elizabeth picked up all these clothes and put them into a bag which was hanging on the back of the door. As she turned back, there was some movement in the right of the frame. “There’s a hotdog sticking into the stall?” thought Elizabeth, right before two more thoughts in quick succession, “Oh no,” and, “Fuck!”

The Elizabeth on the video got down on her knees and quickly took the shaft in her mouth. Bobbing back and forth expertly, it only took a few minutes until she pulled back, and the penis vanished from whence it came, seemingly satisfied. The girl quickly got back to her feet and looked directly at the camera. The real Elizabeth cringed as the video of her flashed dual peace signs, crossed her eyes, and opened her mouth, revealing a milky white substance pooled inside. Then the video ended. Mr. Adams placed the phone down on the bed gently while the two of them just sat there in silence. After what seemed like ages Elizabeth forced words to come to her mouth and managed to spit out three: “That wasn’t me.” “Maybe it was and maybe it wasn’t. But that isn’t going to be the question at the front of the minds of anyone who sees it. Not your classmates, not the paparazzi, not your parents…”

Several more moments passed as Elizabeth digested what she’d just seen. Eventually Mr. Adams reached his arms around her, “Why don’t you sit on my lap and we can talk this over…” he said, grabbing her by the hips and pulling her onto his lap before she could respond. As soon as his hands were off of her a stream of words came pouring out of her mouth “Pleasepleasepleasedon’ttellanyoneaboutthatI’llpaymoreattentioninyourclassI’lldo  
betterIswearand-” “No,” Said Mr. Adams with a grin she could not see, “You’ll do worse. Much worse, in fact.” “Huh?” “Do you think that I bully, make fun of you, belittle you for being dumb because I think it will make you a better student? Because it will motivate you to do better out of spite? No, do it because I like doing it. I like making you feel dumb. And now you’re going to do it for me…” He whispered in her ear, slowly sliding his hand up her thigh and under her skirt, until it was pressed flat against her crotch. She cursed her junk silently as her girldick started to harden against her teacher’s palm.

Mr. Adams started to massage her tender member and kept whispering, “You are going to stop studying for my class. You are going to ask dumb questions. You are going to flunk every test and make a fool of yourself every time I call on you in class. And that goes for every class. In the teacher’s lounge, we talk about the dumbest students we have, make fun of them. I want your name to be a recurring one.” Taking a break from talking he basked in her attempts to mute her moaning. She was enjoying this, even if she wanted to hate it, he could tell she liked it, “And if you do that for me, then maybe the video can stay between us. How does that sound El?” His masterful hand stroked her so well thought that she struggled to find the words to agree. Instead he took confirmation from the high moan she let out, followed by a warm, wet sticky spot appearing on the front of her panties. “Good girl.”


End file.
